Strong wind in Mafialand
There's one thing that stands out in my mind, more than anything else, about today: it was really bloody windy! Today's riding was plagued by the worst, the strongest, and the most unpleasant head wind imaginable; and it stayed with me all day long. As I rode west from Lercara to Prizzi, through the Sicilian Mafia highlands with my semi-flat tyre; as I continued north to the infamous town of Corleone; and as I set up camp in an empty field for the night. Always, the wind was there: it was utterly relentless; and it battered not only my body and my bike, but also my spirit. Bad wind is the worst thing I've come across so far on this trip, and all I wish for is that it will end soon. It feels like every metre forward is a struggle against the forces of nature, which are impelling me to just give up and go home. Arghhh!
The road west to Prizzi was so windy, that at one point I simply had to get off and push my bike. I was utterly buffeted by the gusts: pedalling was no longer an option (and it was barely an uphill slope). Despite the sun shining on me, the wind also had such a biting cold, that I had to don my thick fleece jumper, even when working up a sweat on the uphill sections. At this point — when I was freezing cold, and wheeling my bike along the highway — I was ready to accept a ride, if someone stopped and let me hitch with them. Nobody did stop and do this, however: and I guess that in retrospect, that was a good thing — I've done the whole trip so far on my bike, and I would have deeply regretted ending that now. Anyway, somehow I made it to Prizzi: and when I did, the break and the hot chocolate that I found was most welcome.